Dear Goodfew, Regarding the Poems I Sent
Don't worry about reading them.
If good enough they will keep.
If bad they will linger like old garbage
placed outside a neighbor's door
in the middle of the night only to
wrap tightly around when opening
a morning door to leave for work,
pushed back, turned off, sour,
5 flights of breathless descent
cursing the occupant in 5A.
The front door slams behind.
Stepping into sunlight and shadow
the day is won, has worn away the
mal-odors of morning. Burn now
instead to live, to leave a strong
rot when put out a lover's door
because of laziness,
a partial rejection hung upon a knob.
poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.